THE BETROTHAL.
A long pause ensued after the reading of the letter. The countess stood
with her eyes riveted upon her uncle's face, as though she were waiting
for something more. The young count watched her furtively, but he looked
determined.
"You see, my child," at last sighed the old count, "it is inevitable.
The empress must be obeyed."
"No, no!" screamed the wretched girl, awaking from her stupor, "I will
not be the wife of that man."
"Then you will have to go into a convent."
"No!" cried she, her face suddenly lighting up with a flash of
hope--"no, I will do neither. There is a means of rescuing me from
both."
She turned with a bewitching smile to Count Esterhazy, and in a voice
whose softness was music to his ear, she addressed him:
"In your hands lies the power to rescue me from a forced bridal. You
have heard that despotic note from the empress. Match-making is a
monomania with Maria Theresa: it is useless, therefore, for me to appeal
to her, for on a question of marriage she is inexorable. But you, Count
Esterhazy," continued she, in tones of caressing melody, "you will
rescue me, will you not? I cannot be your wife, for I do not love you; I
cannot go into a convent, for I have no piety. Go, then, to the empress,
and tell her that you do not wish to marry me. You, at least, are free.
Refuse to accept me for your wife, and this miserable comedy is at an
end."
She had clasped her little white hands, and was looking imploringly in
his face.
The young man shook his head. "I cannot say this to the empress," said
he, quietly, "for it is she who sent me hither to woo you."
"The empress sent you hither!" cried the countess, springing forward
like a lioness. "You came not as a free suitor, but as an obedient slave
of the empress."
"I came at the command of the empress," said the young man, mildly.
The countess burst into a loud laugh.
"That, then, was the glowing love which you were describing just now;
that your tender wish to live for my happiness alone. Obedient
school-boy! You were told to come and ask for my hand, and you came--for
fear of being whipped--Oh! why am I not a man? By the heaven above! no
woman should inflict upon me such contumely!"
"It is true," said Count Esterhazy, taking no note of her words, "that
the empress ordered me hither. But since I have seen you, I need no
prompting save that of my own heart."
"Peace, fool! nobody believes you. You had consented to woo me, in
obedience to your despotic sovereign. But you have seen me; now you know
with how much justice I am called 'The Mad Countess,' and now, surely,
you have manhood enough to reject a termagant like me. Go, then, and
tell the empress that I was willing, but you were not--"
"I would not thus belie you, lovely Margaret."
"What do I care whether you belie me or not, so that I am rid of you?"
said she, contemptuously.
"Submit, my dear child," said the old count, with tears in his eyes.
"'Tis the first time in your life that you have been thwarted, and
therefore it is hard for you to succumb."
"I will not submit!" cried Margaret, flinging back her head. "I will not
marry this man. Uncle, dear uncle, leave me one moment with him. I have
something to say that he alone must hear."
The count withdrew at once into another room.
"Now, sir, that we are alone, I have a secret to reveal--to God and to
yourself. Swear by the memory of your mother that you will not betray
me."
"I swear."
She bowed her head, as though accepting the oath. "And now," raid she,
faltering and blushing, "I will tell you why I can never be your wife.
I--" she hesitated, and her head sank upon her bosom, while she stifled
a sigh. "I love another," whispered she, almost inarticulately. "Yes, I
love another. I love him with every throb of my heart, with all the
strength of my being. My every breath is a prayer for him. Every wish,
hope, and longing of my soul points to him alone. I would die to give
him one hour of joy. Now, that I have made this avowal, you retract your
suit, do you not? You will go now to the empress and say that you will
not accept me for your wife. You give me my freedom, surely--you give it
to me now."
Count Esterhazy smiled compassionately. "This is a fable, countess,
which you have invented to escape me. A few moments ago you said that
you would never love."
"I said that to disincline you to marry me."
"I do not believe you," said Esterhazy, calmly. "You have invented this
story of your love for that end; but it is a falsehood, for you are as
cold as an icicle."
"Oh, I wish that I were. For this love is my greatest misfortune. Look
at me, count. Does this seem like dissimulation?"
And she raised up to his view a face, scarlet with blushes, and eyes
filled with burning tears.
"No, countess," sail Esterbazy, after contemplating her earnestly, "I
will believe the tears that glisten in your speaking eyes. But now,
answer me one question. Your confidence gives me the right to ask it. Is
your love returned?"
She remained silent, as if communing with herself, while every trace of
color vanished from her cheeks.
"No," said she, at last, with quivering lips. "No, he does not know it;
and if he did, he could not offer me his hand."
"Then," replied Esterhazy, coolly, "your love is no impediment to our
marriage. Cherish it, if you choose; raise altars to this unknown god,
and deck them with the brightest flowers of devotion. I will not inquire
the name of your deity. Your secret is safe, even from myself. I, on the
contrary, have never loved. My heart stands with doors and windows open,
ready to receive its mistress; and as the empress has selected you, it
waits joyfully for you to take possession."
The countess laid her hand upon his arm, and grasped it like a vise.
"You will not recede!" said she, hoarsely. "You still persist in
desiring me for your wife?"
"You have told me that your love is hopeless, therefore is mine hopeful.
Perhaps one day it may succeed in winning yours."
"But you do not love me," shrieked the maddened girl. "You are here by
command of the empress."
"And the Esterhazys have always been the loyal servants of the empress.
Whenever she commands, they obey--were it at the cost of life and
happiness. Allow me, then, to persevere in my obedience, not only to her
desires, but to my own. I once more solicit the honor of your hand."
"Woe to you if, after this, I yield!" cried she, with threatening
gesture. "I have stooped to entreat you, and my prayers have been vain.
I have withdrawn the womanly veil that concealed my heart's cherished
secret, and you have not renounced your unmanly suit. I said that I did
not love you. Look at me, and hear me, while I vow eternal hatred,
should I be forced to give you my hand."
"There is but one step from hate to love. Allow me to hope that you will
think better of it, and take that step."
A fearful cry rang from her lips, her eyes glowed like burning coals,
and she raised her clinched hand as though she had hoped it might fell
him to the earth. But suddenly it sank helpless to her side, and she
looked long and searchingly into Count Esterhazy's face.
A long silence ensued. "It is well," said she, at length, in clear,
shrill tones. "You have challenged me to mortal combat, and it may be
that you will win. But, oh, believe me when I tell you that victory will
bring you no glory! Your strength is not your own; it lies in the
imperial hand of Maria Theresa. I swear to you that if I become your
wife, my whole life shall be consecrated to hatred and revenge. Count
Esterhazy, I hold my word inviolate, whether I pledge it to friend or
foe; tend when the blight shall fall upon your head that will grow out
of this hour we have spent together, remember that had you been a man of
honor you might have spared yourself the shame!"
Without another word she lifted her proud head, and, with a look of
withering scorn, left the room.
Count Esterhazy's eyes followed her retreating figure, and his placid
brow grew troubled. "Beautiful as she is," murmured he, "it is dangerous
to woo her. She has the beauty of Medusa. My heart positively seems to
petrify under her glance. I would be more than willing to renounce the
honor of wedding this beautiful demon, but I dare not refuse."
And he drew out his delicate, embroidered handkerchief to wipe off the
big drops of sweat that stood upon his forehead.
"Well?" asked Count Starhemberg, opening the door and putting through
his head.
"Pray come in," said Esterhazy, in a piteous tone.
"Ah, my niece has left! Well, I suppose that, as usual, she has
conquered, and you release her?"
"Not at all," replied the unhappy mannikin; "I still beg for the honor
of her hand. The empress has spoken, and I have only to obey."